All Fall Down
by BecksTheDivergent
Summary: This is my take on a past Hunger Games, the 68th to be exact. this is my first fanfic, so don't hate. T cuz it's the Hunger Games.
1. Home

Chapter One: Home

"Why the hell am I-"

Oh. Obviously. There my mother stands, an empty bucket of saltwater in her hand. I don't know why I haven't gotten used to that.

"Just get up." she says, flinging the bucket near my head. I feel like I'm missing something. Do I have a test today? Am I late for school? No, and no. God damnit, I can't remember anything right now.

I walk into the kitchen even though my eyes aren't used to the light yet and ask, "What time is it?" There's a bakery box of donuts on the counter, so I take a strawberry one and sit down.

My dad checks his watch and replies," Ten. It's reaping day, by the way."

Shit.

"Son of a bitch," I mutter, and run back to my room. Oh God, what do I wear_? You know what? Fuck this. Fuck whatever the Capitol wants_, I think_. I'm just going to wear a shirt and jeans._ _Fuck it all_.

I walk into the bathroom and stare at my reflection. My slightly spiked pale blond hair stays up, even though I've slept on it for years. I brush my teeth and try to think of ways to waste time since I have two hours and not much to do. I'm so damn disoriented in the morning. First I think I have to be scrambling to get my shit together, but then I realize I've got nothing but time. I wonder if everybody is the same way_. I could_… I think. Never mind. Maybe I should just go back to sleep or something. Damnit, there's nothing to do. Okay, I give up. Fuck it. I'm just gonna leave.

I walk out of my small house and meander through the uneven cobblestone streets of the fourth district. I breathe in the salty air of my hometown and feel the wind rush past my ears, carrying the sound of faraway seagulls and waves on the shore.

Then I see the hair. The reddish-bronze hair glistening in the sunlight.

"You do realize I can tell you're there?"

"Dammit!" I yell. "Really, you had to do that?"

I turn and stare into the sea green eyes of Genevieve Nero.

"I could hear you in the sand, if you're wondering."

"So I should definitely be working on my stealth. And what exactly are you doing?" I ask.

"Plotting revenge n shit," she says flatly.

"I'm not going to ask," I laugh.

"Okay, so Shiloh was being a bitch this morning and we got in a fight, so he threw a knife at me but missed, being the dumbfuck he is, although it cut me right here-"she turns in my direction and shows me the slice wound on her collarbone" and ripped the dress I was going to wear, thank God, although he blamed it on me. I got out of wearing a dress, but now there's a knife in the wall and my parents are pissed off at me." Genevieve swings her legs, kicking her heels against the rock she's sitting on.

"I'm seriously glad I don't have a thirteen-year-old fucker to deal with," I say.

"So, about that revenge?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Try pantsing him," I suggest.

"Yeah, he probably won't like flashing people his underwear in front of everyone," Genevieve smirks.

"What's this about flashing underwear?" says Finnick, sidestepping a rock." Whatever it is, I'm in." Genevieve bursts into barely audible laughter.

"Not you. We're trying to come up with ways to exact revenge on her brother,"

"Little Shit?"

"Yeah,"

"Hey, do either of you know what time it is?" Finn asks.

Suddenly I feel someone jump up onto my back as their pale hands immediately cover my eyes and I hear in a lighthearted tone, "Gueeeess whoooooooooo?"

"Shad. Like ten twenty or something," I say.

"Shit!" he yells, jumping off the rocks and landing on his feet. Genevieve decides to leave as well.

I hop off the rock, but instead of following them, I notice a seashell in the water close to the shore. I kneel into the sand and see a conch shell, a scallop shell, and this random crab running around.

I decide on the scallop, stuffing it in my pocket to save for later. I run after them, not wanting to be late to the reaping.

When I was eleven, a fifteen-year-old guy was three minutes late and was almost beaten to death. He later died of internal bleeding. I'm sure that really sucked ass.

I arrive at the square five minutes early, so almost everyone is in their age groups. I just have to sign in so I won't get whipped or anything. Yay. The line is relatively long, which is inconvenient, but it's nothing too shitty. After a couple minutes, it's my turn. I sign in and once I'm done, the lady shrieks, "Next!"

I walk to the group of 17-year-olds, taking a place between another blond kid and a brunette I think I might know when the ceremony starts.

Our escort, Julia Archer sashays onto the stage, those goddamned heels clicking against the metal stage. She's neon fucking green this year. I will never understand her. She shifts her beehive that I suspect is a wig with ornamental birds coming out of it and hands the microphone to the mayor, who begins his long, boring speech.

"Long ago, our prosperous nation rebelled against their good-natured government. Brother turned on brother and war forever changed Panem. To stop the uprising, the thirteenth district, nuclear weapons, was.. eliminated. In the Capitol's effort to forgive the districts, every remaining district signed a treaty, saying that henceforth and forevermore, each district shall offer up one male and female tribute to participate in a televised battle of courage, strength, determination, and sacrifice until a lone victor stands for the purpose of entertainment- a fight to the death, a pageant that will be named the Hunger Games." he clears his throat before reciting in unison with Julia," Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."

They wait quietly for us to cheer, which some of us do sarcastically because we have no other choice. I mutter to the blond next to me," That was tacky-ass."

"I don't see why they expect us to give a fuck." he says.

"What happened to Ron?" I ask.

"I heard he killed someone and now he has to be in prison for the rest of his life!" a blond girl pipes up.

"I heard he got assassinated!" another kid contributes.

Julia decides to do that thing that escorts always do, tapping the microphone, even though it obviously works because she just talked into it like two seconds ago.

"Now, ladies first!" she beams. Julia reaches into the glass bowl, clawing around with those whore nails and making some people cringe. She finally draws out a slip, carefully opens it, and speaks.

"Genevieve Nero!" Julia shrieks, grinning. My girlfriend.

Genevieve smirks, her auburn hair swishing as she steps purposefully up the stairs and plays with her glass bracelet. Julia's poofy, bow-ridden green dress brushes against Genevieve's black-clad leg, even though they're multiple feet away from each other. No one is suicidal enough to volunteer for her because that would earn them a spear in the heart.

"And now, for the boys." Julia presses her neon lips together.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I yell.

"Shit," Genevieve whispers, but the microphone catches it.

Everyone stares at me. Many tributes have been dating at the time but only a few times has whoever they were dating gone with them. Chum devotion only goes so far on Reaping Day. Most people just think_, I'm out. Fuck this_, once their girl/boyfriend goes up. What I'm doing is the radical thing. I walk confidently up the stairs and take my place on the other side of Julia.

"Alexander Marina. Don't call me Alexander." I say venomously.

"I VOLUN-" some kid starts.

"No he doesn't." I say.

My parents look at everyone triumphantly and so do Gen's, but Shiloh looks ready to kill me. My mom whispers something to my dad and he nods.

At that moment, Ron comes sprinting to the stairs at full speed, and once he arrives at the steps, he skips all of them and jumps from the ground to the stage. At close enough proximity, I notice that his lips are stained with blood. He literally launches himself seven feet from where he just stood not three seconds ago to his chair. Ron lands perfectly balanced on his feet directly on the seat and badassly slips his legs out from under him and lowers himself onto the chair. Now that I think about it, he's pretty fast. And apparently he's good at parkour.

Finn looks stoic enough when suddenly he mouths, I win, to Genevieve, Shad, our friend Cedric and I. We always guess what color Julia will be each year. I said blue, Gen said yellow, Shad said pink, and Cedric said white. Last year nobody won.

"Shake hands now," Julia instructs us like little kids_. But I'm_ _reeeeaaaallyy tempted to kiss_ _you right_ _now! Damn you Julia._ I protest in my head.

We look at each other awkwardly and our fingers barely touch when Julia snaps, "Other hand,"

I turn around and hiss, "Do we look like we give a shit?"

Julia suddenly beams, "Ladies and gentlemen, District Four's tributes of the sixty-eighth annual Hunger Games!"

I will never again feel the little dips in the streets from the saltwater cracking the cobblestone. I will never see the clouds on the beach again. I know I'm not coming home, but that doesn't mean Four won't have a victor.

**A/N: Wooo! As of now, I'm officially a fanfiction author! So, I'm going to be stealing Ask The Author from angelofmusic4ever (check her out), so ask me any question and I'll answer it, except deeply personal stuff. Also I'm taking Spotlight Stories from Annabeth The-Tribute-That-Lived (check her out) starting next chapter. Au revoir, Autumn**


	2. Beau Soleil

Chapter Two: Beau Soleil

I stare into the crowd of disappointed faces, eighteen-year-olds that will never have their chance to become tributes themselves.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Julia touches the back of her obviously mod podge coated beehive, and suddenly we're assaulted with an infinite-seeming arsenal of glitter.

"I dare you to kill her," Gen challenges, making sure the microphones can't catch what she's saying, since she just learned that the hard way.

"I'm not going to just go up to her and kill her," I answer in a hushed tone.

"Si-ssy," sings Genevieve.

Suddenly a peacekeeper grips Gen's arm, and she reflexively punches him in the nose. A laugh erupts from the crowd as his nose starts gushing with blood. At one point, he actually has to take off his helmet and hold his nose closed. It's obvious he really wants to shoot her, but he's holding back since he doesn't want to get tortured or anything by Snow for killing a tribute.

I take my last glance at my hometown, only looking back for a second. Fish Stick uses that second to flip me off, so I do the same back to him.

Julia leads us into the Justice Building, so we can pick fights with people. At least that's what Careers do. Speaking of Careers: I forgot to go to the Academy today! Fuck! Suddenly my foot smacks into the leg of the red velvet couch, bringing me back to reality. The next thing I notice is that there are portraits of every male tribute of District 4 on the walls. On one side it's the fallen tributes-all 65,no,66 of them including me-and the other side is of the victors, with Ron being the most recent at year 66.

I sit on the arm of the couch and put my feet up since I know I'm going to be alone for the hour. I untie and retie my sneakers, bored as hell. After about thirty minutes Shiloh bursts in, yelling obscenities so fast I can't even tell what he's saying. I quickly put my feet on the floor, make him shut the fuck up for a second, and say, "Slow down. God…" I put my feet on the floor.

"What the hell was that!" He shoves me against the wall but really I'm letting him.

"I think you're a little too distracted in your whole aura of dumbassery to see the light in the shit I just pulled," I say smoothly. I always thought I was a scintillating conversationalist, but maybe that's just me.

"You're the one that just volun-fucking- teered to kill my sister. And I know damn well that that's exactly the kind of crap you're going to do."

"Actually, I just 'volun-fucking-teered' to save her life. In case you haven't noticed, I have a plan, Little Shit."

"Fess up," he demands.

"No."

"Say it now or you die," Shiloh draws a small knife out of his hair.

"What the hell!" I exclaim.

"What can I say? Curly hair has its advantages sometimes. Although the only problem is that girls think it's all cute n shit."

"Hate that." I say.

"Anyway this plan of yours."

"Nope. Not telling you."

"I'm starting to think you don't have a plan."

"I'm not telling you because I know that if I do then you'll say it when you're interviewed."

"Fair enough," he turns to leave, but then says," Don't fucking kill her. Two, during the tribute parade, flip off the cameras_. I dare you_." Shiloh sticks the knife back in his hair and leaves. I walk over to the mirror and angrily pick glitter out of my short-cropped hair. Well, if it's a dare, then I guess I have to do it.

"By the way, you don't do crap!" I yell.

"Who gives a fuck!" he pokes his head back in the door.

Genevieve's mother walks in and tells me sadly,"You were always such a good boy, Xander. Thank you so much. I'll miss you a lot."

Her dad follows suit." Save her, Alex. Please." He says in his characteristic deep voice.

"I know what I'm doing." I say solemnly.

The door collides with the wall so hard I'm expecting it to fall off its hinges, but it doesn't. Instead, my mom walks in supporting my dad at the waist.

"What." I say flatly.

My mom lets go of him for about half a second, and he falls into the window. It doesn't even crack, which leads me to believe that they have shatterproof windows now. Maybe at one point a tribute from an outlying district tried to escape by breaking a window. I wouldn't know. I've never heard of it happening.

I love watching drunk adults do stupid shit.

Dad keeps five-starring me and yelling something about how Julia tastes like a lime and did I want to go roof jumping with him and how he hates when the peacekeepers keep prohibiting him from bringing me outside and random shit like that.

"Dad. What the fuck."

"When I was eighteen, I wanted to go into the Games. I decided I would volunteer, but then I met your mother and decided I would stay. And then we got married. The end." I can't imagine that. 'Marlin Marina, District Four Male of the 46th Hunger Games'.

"Um.." I decide that trying to talk to my dad will get me nowhere, so ask my mother, " What the hell is up with Dad."

"He was out drinking." My mom says in a deadpan voice.

"I-It was celebratory, son." My dad explains. Judging by the brightness in his face, he's definitely drunk. Maybe not Haymitch drunk, where he'll puke all over something or worse, but still pissed drunk. I was born the year after he won, but Haymitch was already walking alone on a jacked-up road by then.

My mom suddenly smacks me upside the head, which comes as a big surprise to me since I'm six fucking two and she's about 5'5". "Just don't get fucked up, kid, "she warns,"Or else I'm disowning you."

And those were the last words she would ever say to me.

**A/N Ugh I have no reviews! That makes me sad guys! I need legit reviews! I'm talking to you, Serafina.**

**Today's Spotlight Story is 7 Days to Live: The 9****th**** Quarter Quell by Annabeth The-Tribute-That-Lived. You won't regret reading it. Promise. **

**If you review, I'll update faster! *Nudge nudge wink wink***

**Well I have a shitload of homework so bye.**

**Au revoir, Autumn**


	3. Infinite

Chapter Three: Infinite

"_Just don't get fucked up, kid," she warns. "Or else I'm disowning you,"_

_And those were the last words she would ever say to me._

A few people from school come in, some of which I don't know. Cedric says, "They wouldn't let Shad in yet, so she's coming in after we leave. She almost got written up though. It was hilarious." Basically in Four if you screw up, you get written up. If they see your name on the list too many times, you lose your fishing license. Since there isn't much else to do in Four besides fish, poverty and starvation soon follow and then you're basically fucked.

"What'd she do?"

"She saw The Asshole and got into a fight with him. It was so badass. You should have there."

"_The_ Asshole?"

"Yeah_, The_ Asshole. We already told Gen." _The _Asshole who stabbed her in the eye when we were five for no apparent reason? Damn.

"Some shit went down. It was crazy. Just… damn. I didn't even know she could fist fight. It makes her that much sexier." He dishes.

"So you guys just_… happened_ upon him?"

"Yeah, she wasn't seeking him out or anything."

"Mr. Marina, you have five minutes."

"Oh, well, bye." says Cedric. "I'm totally gonna ask her out."

"Um… good luck with that."

"Be right back."

"Bye, Xander!" I get pulled in for an impromptu giant-ass group hug. "Win for us!" one girl whose name I vaguely remember as Azure says. They all leave when Cedric bursts in and yells, "SHE SAID YES!"

Then I hear from the other room, "WHO SAID YES TO WHO!"

So I yell to Genevieve," SHAD SAID YES TO CEDRIC!"

"TELL THEM TO COME TELL ME SO I CAN ACT SURPRISED!"

"HE CAN HEAR YOU!" I shout.

"OH! WELL THEN THAT WAS MY BROTHER!"

"WHATEVER!" Cedric yells back. "I better go."

"Bye," I say.

Shad bursts in, laughing like an insane dipshit. I imagine it's because she just got asked out for the first time, but then she says darkly," I know what you're doing."

"The fact that I'm volunteering so I can get Gen and I to the final two and then I'll commit suicide so she'll win, or that I just had a conversation with her through a wall about the fact that Cedric just asked you out?"

"Both, but I was talking about the former."

"So how'd your brawl go?"

"Considering I knocked him out, I'd say I won."

"Still doesn't make up for being stabbed," I say.

"True." says Shad glumly. "Having a glass eye sucks."

"Seems like it."

"So do eye patches."

"Mr. Marina, your hour is up." a peacekeeper says while opening the door.

"So, um… bye," says Shad awkwardly.

"Yeah, uh…"

The peacekeeper ushers me out of the room and I ask him, "Do I still have that stupid glitter in my hair?" He walks around me for a second, and then tells me no. It's a short ride to the train station, and I've never been in a car before.

The train station is packed with reporters and their insectlike cameras trained directly on our faces. I can feel a microphone's presence hanging above my head, almost touching my hair and I _really_ want to slap that goddamned thing away from me. Glancing up at the screen broadcasting us live, which seriously pisses me off, I notice that my expression doesn't deviate from the usual. Basically it's the 'I-could-maim/kill-you-any-second-here-so-don't-even-fucking-think-about-it' face that is the trademark Career, plus my own dead sexiness, not to brag.

Suddenly a reporter shoves a microphone into my face and squeaks, "Congratulations, Alexander!"

I reply curtly, "Didn't I say not to call me that?" My tone lightens. "And yes I will be stabbing people on occasion, if that's what you're asking." At that moment Julia snatches my arm, accidentally scratching me with her creepy whore nails. We have to stand in the doorway for a few minutes while more pictures are taken, when finally we're allowed inside and the automatic doors slide shut. We start moving immediately and the initial speed is astounding. This isn't a conventional seafood-over-ice train. This is one of the high-speed Capitol models manufactured in District Six that probably average 250 miles per hour or something. I've never been on a train before, as inter-district travel is forbidden, with the exception of officially sanctioned duties.

Seconds later Genevieve's palms slam into my chest and I lose balance, crashing into the table. My arm slides off the table, bringing a glass with it as I fall to the floor. It shatters right next to my head, and a couple of the shards slice open my left cheekbone, some getting embedded in my cheek. It's just about four small cuts, so whatever. It's not like I'll die. Yet_. It's moments like this that make me love you, Gen._

I'm a little pissed, considering she just shoved me into a table, but then again, it makes her sexier than usual.

"What the hell was that!" I exclaim. I'm grinning like an idiot, which I never do, so I'm not that convincing, but who gives a fuck.

"You had no right to do any of that shit! I could have fucking_ managed_!" Genevieve shouts.

"I think I like you, " I say with a smirk.

"I almost_ killed _you and you _like _me?!"

"Pssssssshhhhhhh! I _refuse _to let a glass shard kill me!" I protest.

"What happened?" Julia yelps, a note of hysteria in her voice. "Did you fall?"

"I ASSUME NO RESPONSIBILITY," says Gen as she flees the room, going nowhere in particular.

"I'm fine," I growl.

Then I hear a laugh that could only be one person: Finnick Odair. If you don't know him, he seems arrogant. If you do, you realize that he's not actually that conceited. I glare daggers at him while getting up quickly and unintentionally giving myself a head rush, my vision getting momentarily jacked up.

"I'll kick your ass," I growl in his ear.

"Alright," says Julia awkwardly," We'll give you the tour now."

An hour later, we've had the full tour of the entire train and we're back in the dining car.

"Oh, and we also need to introduce you to the lovely victors."

Mags has to go first even though everyone that ever did live knows her, and then it's the next lady whose name is Muscida Selkirk. We decide to call her The Selkirk. Next is Librae something, who tells us to just call her Libby. Fish Stick just tells Julia that we know who he is. Ron Stafford the Master of Parkour needs not introduce himself since he won a mere two years ago.

Parkour God runs a pale hand through his fiery red hair which falls in waves across his forehead as Julia announces that we're going to watch the recaps of the reapings, as is apparently standard. The television flickers to life, and we get to see our meager competition.

"You and I make one hell of a team," I whisper to Genevieve.

"Did I ever tell you that you're dead sexy." She replies.

"_Ahem_, kids."

Julia's ridiculously soprano Capitol accent pisses me off, so much so that I'm considering walking off this train.

She turns on the television and suddenly One's escort shoves his face in the camera and exclaims animatedly, "_Hellooo_ Panem! Time to see who will be representing District One!" Man, shut the hell up before I punch you. Stop. Just no.

Libby facepalms.

He adjusts his top hat and strokes a gloved finger over his ridiculously curled pale pink handlebar mustache before marching up the steps and the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, except he seems as bored as everyone else except the escort because he reads it in an extremely monotone voice.

Once Dipshit/Escort starts bouncing over to the girls bowl, I start paying attention. He pulls a slip out, but a girl about our age pushes through the crowd and says, "Belladonna Ruby, but you can call me Baby."

"Oh God," says Fish Stick. "This is disgusting."

She's a classic One girl, with her long blond curls and emerald green eyes. Another kid's name is drawn, but a twelve year old named Satin volunteers in the guy's place. He looks like his female counterpart, except for the fact that he has light brown ringlets instead, and she only has about an inch on him at about 5'7".

District 2 I'm interested to see. Their escort reads a girl by the name of Atropa Vespa, but then a shaggy-haired fourteen year old by the name of Cascade volunteers, and the eighteen year old screams profanities at her, is eventually dragged away by Peacekeepers, and is still kicking and screeching at this kid.

"Holy shit," says Gen.

The guy's another volunteer named Sage. He's our age, and has slanted brown eyes and tousled black hair that he runs his hands through a lot. He looks at Cascade almost condescendingly, with one eyebrow raised. Honestly, I think her name is better suited for Four, since it has to do with water, and we're the kings of water.

In Three, both are reaped. Fun as fuck. The girl is typical -not really-, with her platinum blond corkscrew curls and pale skin. She's dressed in a turquoise silk button down blouse and a tailored gray skirt. Bet those were expensive. The guy's name is Volt, and he's pale too. Someone starts sobbing when he shuffles onstage, and another girl passes out. Guess he's a ladies' man. A guy throws her over his shoulder when it's clear she's gushing blood, although it doesn't look like he knows her, and he quickly hands her off to a peacekeeper who carries the girl away bridal style, and by now she's soaked in blood.

And then there's us.

I seize the remote and try to fast forward, except the remote doesn't work. I chuck it across the room, and it smacks into the wall. Shit.

And thus, we are forced to watch ourselves become tributes. This is awkward.

The brass gong depicting two dolphins circling each other endlessly is rung, starting the ceremony. The speech is made and Ron does his parkour-ish stuff. He's making a terrible attempt at not blushing, which ultimately fails because of his complexion. Pale skin is uncommon for District 4, unlike Finnick's or Cedric's, which has been mercilessly tanned by the blazing sun.

Julia's being an annoying Capitolite by wearing an ostentatious outfit, and just being Julia, so I decide not to care. Then she draws out Gen's name, I volunteer, and Julia assaults us with glitter. Shit. I make a horribly annoyed and exasperated face I didn't even know I was making, even flaring my nostrils a little. Fish Stick cracks in seconds since he can't be serious to save his life.

"That face though! You look like a complete _dipshit_!" he exclaims.

Gen dares me to kill her, which you can't even hear the conversation; you can only see her leaning towards me and the movements of her lips.

"What were you even talking about?" asks The Selkirk.

"Um… just the fact that it was really awkward." I cover for us.

Julia presses a finger to her lips, and Gen exclaims," I wasn't even _talking_!"

Gen punches the peacekeeper, and then we're escorted into the Justice Building and it moves on to Five.

An insanely intelligent-looking girl with chin length platinum blond hair in an angular cut along her strong jawline is reaped, her cold, calculating steel blue eyes scanning everyone in the crowd accusingly as she strides up the steps showing no emotion, as if somehow they've put her on the stage. Her deathly pale district partner who is tall and ridiculously thin steps up timidly, and smiles shyly not because he's elated, but more since he's crestfallen and a lot of people are staring at him.

In District Six, another pale-skinned girl maybe a year younger than me gets reaped, and her district partner spaces out beforehand and asks in a rather confused tone, "Who said my name?" before shuffling onto the stairs. It doesn't seem like he has any sort of memory loss, so he probably wasn't paying attention.

"This is sad." says Ron.

He's probably Gen's height, so around four inches shorter than me, and around his female counterpart's age, maybe a year older. The striking thing about him though, is how bold he is.

"Good riddance, bitches." he mutters into the microphone. "Sorry I'm gonna die. I mean, I'm not sorry for you, but do I feel shitty about my imminent death? Yeah. I guess you could say that. It'd be nice to laugh in your faces next year, but that's unrealistic. Although, now I'm wondering how I'm going to end up killing myself off. Anyway, good riddance."

District Seven brings us a thirteen-year-old with woody brown hair, which is really not funny considering where she's from, and dark green eyes which are fearstruck despite her trying in vain to hide it. Her district partner, on the other hand, I learn nothing of him. All I commit to memory is the fact that he's got shaggy brown hair and warm brown eyes.

District Eight though. Fuck. That's some deep shit right there. Vicuna is striking, which is an understatement actually. She's paler than the guy from Five, which is saying a lot. To contrast that, her sleek black hair is so dark it's almost an iridescent blue. And then her eyes… they're such an intense shade of blue that they look like two blocks of ice boring into my head. They're not actually the color of ice, they're more intense than that, and brighter. The guy, compared to her, seriously lacks interesting qualities. As it turns out, everyone from districts 3, 5, 6, and 8 are really pale.

From Nine comes a girl with shimmering dirty blond hair that's unusually shiny. She looks extremely pissed, and I wonder how volatile she is. Depending on the answer to that, she might be one of those few people like Genevieve and I who get to the point where we could potentially end up killing ourselves when we're going a _little_ insane with our anger, also known as volatile as all hell. We're going to get along just fine. The guy from her district looks slightly sunburned and he's got some muscle, but not as much as me, of course. He cringes when his district partner shakes his hand, and she looks ready to slap him for that. _Sorry_, he mouths, _sunburn_. She gives him a small look of understanding.

Ten gives us a girl who looks about fifteen and has her chocolate brown hair in double braids, which I think looks ridiculous, and it's immediately clear that her femininity will be the end of her. Her district partner's eyes scan through the crowd for a moment, and then he shakes hands with his district partner, giving her a look of pity as he does so.

From Eleven, a thirteen-year-old girl with dark skin and ridiculously poofy hair is reaped with a steady stream of silent tears flowing down her face like a river, and two other girls burst into tears as she solemnly mounts the stage as if writing a death sentence, which basically she is. Her district partner is about her age or maybe a year older is also reaped, and he looks a lot like her, except he's a lot taller than her although he's pretty thin. He seems to be pretending to be okay with his imminent death, but I can tell since I make that expression a lot that he's not.

Lastly from District Twelve comes a petite and elven blond girl of about twelve who's probably 4'8" that I actually don't feel bad for for some reason, but okay. Her ridiculously small dress that she's wearing is tight enough that it shows her prominent ribs, and she tugs at the bottom of it as she awkwardly shuffles onto the steps with her amber eyes averted. The dress is clearly too small on her, and she looks annoyed with it while trying to not trip over her own feet.

"Mincol Dircon!" calls Effie. It's actually Euphemia Trinket, but she goes by Effie. Someone from the section I would be in if I lived there with the aforementioned name power walks out of his section, his fingers slipping out of those of a girl's. Tears fill her eyes upon feeling the ghost of his fingers in hers, and he whispers_, It's okay Ash. _She nods and the girl next to her hugs her. He walks up the stage and at this point his fellow tribute's already chalk-white face is paling. By the time he gets there, she's swiveling slightly. Upon shaking her hand, she immediately grips his wrist for support and I notice the major difference in skin tone between the two, with Mincol having olive skin and his district partner having a pale complexion.

"I WILL NOT BE SHOWED UP BY A TWELVE YEAR OLD!"

Mincol glares for a second and then notices the other kid falling, her cornsilk blond hair fanned out behind her like a sunburst. She ends up on the stage, a small pool of blood surrounding her head and making its way into her hair. He stands above her head, running a hand through his brown hair. After about ten seconds, the girl's eyes slowly crack open. She touches her hair whilst sitting up, and gives a questioning look when her hands come away bloody. "I think I'm okay," she whispers meekly.

"Alright District Twelve, see you next year! Until then, keep digging!" Effie calls, as bright and bubbly as ever.

"Digging your grave," Mincol mutters.

"You don't even _dig_ coal, dumbass," adds his district partner.

The little kid is helped up, both tributes are ushered into the Justice Building, and the television turns off.

"_Why_ does that always happen," I say, exasperated.

Gen always comes up with something snarky to say, and this time it's, "You and Twelve coordinate your outfits or some shit? They're _identical_," she snickers.

"Actually, we did. Effie and I are very good friends. She has very good style, and you know how much I stress fashion."

"Only we don't." I say.

"Only you do. Everyone does."

"Only we don't." I repeat.

"Only you do."

"Only we don't."

"Only you do."

The Selkirk steps in and says, "So, what are your thoughts?" Good, because I was about to throw something at Julia's wig, since it annoys the shit out of me.

"Um, weak." says Genevieve.

"No shit, Sherlock," Mags snorts.

"God damn," I say. "We got us some friends, Gen,"

"_Other_ than that?" asks Libby. " Some of them look like contenders."

"Uh, no."

"Fucking really." Librae says flatly.

"Yeah, what the _shit _is'no' even supposed to mean?" Fish Stick chimes in.

Suddenly I feel something coming out of my cheekbone and blood runs down the lower half of my face.

"Ow!" I exclaim.

"Sissy," Gen mutters.

"_Hurtful_!" I say, pretending to be offended.

As I look over, I notice Gen delicately grasping a glass shard dripping with my blood and holding it to Finn's declitee. She twists it a little and he makes a horrible sound, choking dramatically.

"It just is," mutters Gen shamelessly.

"Okay, let's try this again." says Ron.

"Fine."

"So?"

"Well, One seems useless, Two are okay, ditto to Three, we're bitchin', and Five through Twelve are shit."

"Alright, that's a valid answer. Alex. What about you?" he replies.

"Same."

"Fair enough," Parkour God presses his hands together, and I walk with Genevieve to her room.

"_Talk now_." She growls in a low voice.

"Well, the whole reason I volunteered was so I could get us to the final two and then I'd commit suicide and you'd win. Just go with it and act like you don't know."

"_Fine_." Gen runs her hand through her hair and creates a deep side part. "I hate you."

"I think Fish Sick's gonna start bothering us if we spend too much time alone in here." I state.

"Whatever. Wait, before we leave, can I just punch you first?"

"Yeah," I say nonchalantly.

Her fist hits my face hard enough to shatter bone, and I wince when I realize_, Wrong cheekbone_. She shakes her hand out and wipes blood off it.

"Oh shit," she says, full of shock and chagrin. "Fuck,"

I feel blood tricking down my face and whisper,"Crap," voicing my thoughts.

"Damn it."

"Here, um," I trail off, wiping the blood on my fingers. "I'm gonna go."

Since I wasn't paying attention earlier, I can't find my room. Eventually I find _'A Marina' _neatly carved into the gold plate of an expensive-looking door, so I walk in. Sure enough, there's a ridiculously huge bed, a walk-in closet/dressing room, and a giant bathroom with a complicated -looking shower that I don't want to deal with.

I sit on the bed being excessively bored, and I guess I fall asleep because next thing I know, I screech, "Ow!" as I land on the floor. Damn tall beds.

Eventually Finnick knocks on my door and I answer it.

"Yeah?" I immediately ask, still bored as hell.

"Food's here," he says.

I wordlessly walk out with him and Gen, and he announces, "I have collected the children and now they are present."

"Why so formal?" I ask.

"Felt like it," He replies.

"Fair enough,"

"Alright, time to address the big question hanging over our heads," announces Mags.

"As in?" demands Genevieve.

"Who's mentoring," she clarifies. "If we don't figure it out soon it's going to come back and bite us in the ass,"

"Whoa there Mags,"

"Ron, shut up. You're not doing it this year."

"Why the hell not?"

"_He's mine_," snarls Fish Stick.

"Well then,"

"Um, Genevieve, do you care?" asks Libby.

"No."

"Then I'll mentor you, unless one of the others state otherwise."

"Can I do it?" requests Mags, and Librae acquiesces. "I haven't done it in a while."

"Alright, now that that's dealt with, we can start."

I actually look at the table, and notice a shit ton of food. "God damn," I breathe.

After finishing dinner, we part ways and I walk back to my room, dreading dealing with the shower since I took one last night. I notice a couple towels on the rack, so I just use them since I don't know where they are. I somehow manage to turn it on and step in and am instantaneously assaulted with strange smelling foamy stuff and jets of scorching water. I literally punch a ton a buttons on the wall and suddenly the water gets ridiculously cold and an arsenal of liquid soap that smells like -vanilla?- attacks my neck and some drips down my arm. By now I don't care, but hey. Live it up, right? I eventually emerge from the shower and automatically a dryer evaporates the random droplets of water off my muscular arms and out of my hair, which is already sticking up. I find that the towels are unusually soft and annoyingly luxurious as I wrap one around me while walking to the dressing room.

I put on some other clothes that were just in the closet, and I'm starting to suspect that there are some sort of maids that I don't know about. Whatever.

I walk back out to the dining room and realize I'm shirtless.

"Well shit."

"Wait Xander, I have something for you." Oh yeah, that reminds me I found that scallop shell earlier today.

"Hmm, the suspense," I say.

Gen pulls out some mystery thing from her pocket and I all I can see is cord, although there's clearly more to it.

"It's not much, but…" she trails off, handing me the necklace.

I look at it and notice the gleaming shark tooth at the end and say, "That doesn't matter," as she gives me a small peck on the cheek.

"I actually have something for you too," I state. "I'll be right back. And I'm gonna go put on a shirt while I'm at it,"

"I'll be here,"

I go and get the shell out of my pant pocket and put on a light green tank top, sauntering in. Gen yawns as I present her the shell. "I kind of didn't buy it," I tell her, embarrassed. "But there was this crab kind of running around on the shore and so I noticed the shell. There was a conch too, but I wasn't sure which you liked better. But then again, it won't matter because once I off myself there won't be any me to give you stuff."

"It's okay. But I don't really have a preference, although I applaud you for trying," she replies.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind,"

"Think I'm gonna go to bed."

"Me too,"

"Oh wait, here's your thingy whatever it's called shit,"

"I believe that is a necklace," I say.

"Yeah," she adds, "that thing,"

Genevieve hands it to me, and I don the cord in front of her as we both simultaneously have the idea to kiss.

She pulls away and opens her eyes even though I keep my hand on her shoulder for a few extra seconds. "You're sexy," we both say.

We walk to our rooms and once I cross the threshhold between the door and the hallway, my mind goes insane with '_HOLY SHIT I LOVE YOU' _and I turn off the light as my head goes into a whirlwind of dumb guy_. I fucking love you Gen! Whoa where the shit did that come from? You already knew that. Why are you thinking that now? You've been telling yourself that for years. Fucking god shut up brain!_

As I collapse into my new bed, I tell myself how lucky I am to get her. I love you Genevieve Nero, and that's all I really know.

**A/N: I am so sorry I am such a shit guys! The first two chapters were pretyped, so this is about the speed I will usually update. Thanks to my first story follower roelaine! You are like awesome! Plus: find the T-Swizzle (Taylor Swift) reference. REVIEW!**

**Anyway, today's spotlight story is 72 Hours Remain by Sinfonian Legend.**

**Wow this is a ridiculously short AN.**

**BECKS OUT!**


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